


Dressing Down

by scarimor



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, The Enchanted Forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarimor/pseuds/scarimor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Emma. Lady Regina. Young lust. Ball gowns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dressing Down

**Author's Note:**

> Fic prompt by Amanda (barbie-shoes): _Princess Emma and Young Regina meet at a ball in FTL. They are instantly smitten, sneak off together, and end up ruining both their gowns during sexy times._

Silently, Emma recited her internal mantra to steel herself for the coming trial:

I am Her Royal Highness the Princess Emma, only daughter of Her Majesty the Queen Snow White and His Charming Highness David her Prince Consort; granddaughter of His Majesty the late King Leopold and his beloved died-before-I-was-born Queen Eva, sole heir to my mother's kingdom, future monarch, potential bride... and there are times when I really, really enjoy the company of men.

Unfortunately, this was not one of those times. Emma was not duelling with Sebastian her fencing master in the gallery on a rainy day, nor swinging a broadsword with Captain Frank of the palace guard on the training grounds. She was not practising at the butts with Eric the quartermaster and his impressive selection of short and longbows, nor even working up a sweat in the sun with burly Bill the brewer who knew some damned fine wrestling moves (see? she really did like the company of men, especially when like all the aforementioned they were safely married).

No. Young Princess Emma was not doing any of these enjoyable things; because Princess Emma was going to a ball.

It wasn't that Emma wouldn't enjoy a ball, given the chance to actually do so. She liked dancing, and music, and a bit of courtly gossip as much as any other seventeen-year-old girl. She even liked dressing up to the nines now and then. And this was not just any ball. This was a lovely, huge, extravagant palace ball; a once in only five years type of ball - the kind that took months to plan and generated as many months of speculation beforehand and intrigue in its wake. The kind of ball that absolutely everyone who was anyone was invited to, even if your mother couldn't stand the sight of some of them and your father went paler than his wife when he realised just how much it was going to drain the kingdom's coffers. So it should have been an event that Emma looked forward to - this jewel-glittering, skirt-swishing, chest-puffing, punch-quaffing (every cloud has a silver lining) affair of a ball, to which the great and the rich and the obscenely ambitious all came, bringing their many legions of sons with them.

That was the problem. These worthy people did seem to have an awful lot of sons, and all of them seeking to be Emma's suitor, apparently. Not for the first time Emma wished she had some sisters, just to spread the load a little. Especially galling was the fact that this ball wasn't supposed to be about her. It wasn't as if it was her birthday or anything. This grand party wasn't in her honour. Yet for as long as Emma could remember, any festive gathering she attended turned into an occasion for notable families from both within and beyond the kingdom to present their eligible young males and press them, without subtlety, in her direction. Most such men were nervous, some were handsome, and a few were moderately witty (the one who took up her challenge to a wrestling match showed most promise - until both sets of parents intervened). Yet none inspired her so far.

So it was with the fatalistic resolve of the brave yet condemned mounting a scaffold that Emma followed her father the Prince and her mother the Queen now, dressed in their most exquisite finery, and prepared to smile and greet with charm and grace as she had been schooled since she learned to walk. As per custom the ball had started during daylight, but now the many hundreds of guests had waited a suitably long enough time for the royal family to make their entrance. Emma could hear refined music growing louder as they processed through rooms bright with candles, each one higher and grander than the last, towards the great ballroom. Her reflection glided beside her in ornate mirrors that lined the walls, and Emma allowed herself a few moments of pride, because when all was said and done she did look rather stunning.

Her gown was creamy silk with an emerald trim that shimmered like a sunlit dragonfly when she moved. Lace and whalebone kept her posture perfect, though she needed little reminder. White gold and diamonds glittered beneath her ears and around her wrists and neck. Her blonde hair was smoothed into waves and pinned up under a sparkling tiara, leaving a few long curls to frame her face and brush her bare shoulders. Emma smiled at the fine creature that looked back at her from the glass, her confidence building. Yes, she could do elegant very well; and knowing that she looked so damned good, perhaps this evening would not be such an ordeal.

So Princess Emma turned her head forwards again and lifted her chin just a little, hearing the low but excited hum of the guests as they approached the ballroom, and determined to enjoy herself.

She lasted less than an hour.

"You look utterly ravishing."

Emma suppressed a sigh. It was a line she had heard, or a tedious variation thereof, at least forty times so far and the night had hardly begun. But this offender had not even waited to be formally presented before declaring his appreciation, which was a sure sign that he'd already made too free with the alcohol and Emma would most likely get a noseful the instant she turned round to face him. She braced herself, smiled and turned.

"And this embroidery is beautiful," he added.

No alcohol breath. Ok. Just not hung up on protocol, then. That's something. Immaculately dressed, too. We might be getting somewhere this time.

But Emma's moment of optimism was short-lived when, too predictably, the tall young man who had spoken could not keep his eyes on her face for more than a second. His gaze fell down to her chest with indecent speed.

"Ravishing," he repeated.

"Thank you," said Emma, her smile rock steady. "And you are?"

"Viscount Trevelyen."

Emma was sure she'd never heard of him, or of any Trevelyens for that matter.

"Absolutely stunning," he said, not even pretending to be interested in anything above her bust.

Emma's smile widened painfully. "Viscount Trevelyen, will you excuse me?"

"Oh." He blinked rapidly. "Of course, Your Highness."

Emma thrust her empty glass into Trevelyen's hand, spun on her heel and made the kind of swift, focused beeline for nowhere in particular that brooks no interruption. She was just starting to worry that she might not figure out where she was headed before she ran out of ballroom when an unfamiliar voice somehow spoke quietly right beside her ear.

"So what was wrong with that one?"

Emma came to a halt so suddenly that she skidded on the polished floor.

"Whoa. Don't fall over." An unseen hand gripped her elbow and steadied her.

Emma turned, expecting to find a woman to match the low, slightly husky voice that had spoken, but instead she found a girl about her own age.

"I wasn't going to," said Emma.

The girl raised one dark eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

Emma bristled at the girl's sardonic tone. She took a moment to appraise her. She was not as tall as Emma, but was every inch as elegant in a deep crimson gown that absolutely suited her flawless olive skin. Emma felt a tinge of envy, wishing that she could pull off deep colours that well. Long dark hair tumbled around the girl's smooth shoulders and her deep brown eyes glittered with gentle humour. But it was when she smiled at the princess with full, perfect lips that Emma inhaled sharply.

Sweet fairy fumes. What a beauty.

"So..." The girl leaned closer in the mutually appreciative moment that followed, her expression growing conspiratorial. "Why didn't you like him?"

Emma found her voice. "He was leering at me."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Which part of you, exactly?"

She might be gorgeous, Emma thought, but this girl was quite impertinent.

"At my assets."

"Your boobs?" The smile went a little lop-sided, which made something sweet and sharp tug in Emma's lower abdomen.

'"Yes!" Emma's response came out haughtier than she wished.

The girl's lovely mouth broadened into a full, delighted grin. "He wasn't leering at you, foolish girl. It's your dress that fascinates him."

Emma felt her own mouth fall open. She didn't know what unsettled her more - being called a "foolish girl" by another girl she didn't know, or the sudden notion that she might indeed have made a fool of herself; and it surprised Emma to realise that she felt far worse about making a fool of herself in this lovely creature's eyes than in front of any of the recent bachelors.

But the girl's smile and friendly tone didn't match her mocking words. After a suitable pause, just long enough to tease, the girl explained. "Trevelyen designs ball gowns. I thought you knew."

"Oh," said Emma, her wit deserting her. "How unusual."

The girl whispered. "Besides, I'm pretty sure he's fucking Sir Sebastian."

Emma considered herself fortunate not to be holding a glass any more because she was pretty sure she would have dropped it right then. Who on earth was this impudent girl who spoke to a royal princess so inappropriately and... wait a moment! Sebastian? She gasped in shock.

"My fencing master?"

The girl nodded. "For nearly a year now."

"He has a wife!"

"I think that's a fairly open relationship. She also takes lovers."

"How do you know this?"

The beautiful smile slipped into a smirk which effectively told Emma _there are some secrets you're not ready for_.

Oh, thought Emma. Now it's on.

"Who are you?" Emma asked.

"I'm Lady Regina." The girl took a step back and delivered a slow and perfect formal curtsy. "Your Royal Highness," she added, louder.

"And is your dress one of Trevelyen's designs, Lady Regina?"

"It is."

"A bold choice, crimson. Especially for one so young."

Regina straightened. "I know how old you are, ma'am. And I am eighteen."

"I see. Then I suppose, Regina, that makes you _the older woman_."

A mere flicker in Regina's eyes told Emma that the potential innuendo had not escaped her notice. Satisfied, Emma smiled. "And why aren't you dancing, Regina?" She indicated the constant swirl of dresses and fine tunics behind them.

"I'm hiding from my mother."

"Why?"

"For the same reason you were running for your life just now: the relentless match-making."

"Ah." Well she could certainly identify with that. "So tell me, Regina, do you have any more juicy secrets that you are prepared to share?"

Regina looked coy for a moment, and Emma suspected it was deliberate. Then she composed herself into something resembling a strong negotiating position.

"That depends. What can you give me in exchange?"

"You may call me Emma."

"Sounds fair. Come with me, Emma."

 

"What are we doing?"

Somehow, and Emma wasn't quite sure how, they had made it out to one of many narrow passageways that circled the ballroom without being accosted or asked to dance or Emma being told how very, very lovely she was by strangers with bad breath - something Emma considered a magical feat on Regina's part as her new companion led her swiftly by the hand through the parting throng.

"Shh!" said Regina. They stood in semi-darkness now, seemingly enveloped by thick velvet drapes which muffled every sound. Emma wasn't exactly sure where they were, and she felt she knew her palace well. "You wanted to know a secret," said Regina. She slipped her hand between the drapes and parted them a few inches. "So look, Emma."

Emma peered between the dark velvet. Her eyes were still adjusting to the low light so it took a while for her to get her bearings. Then she realised that she was looking into one of several side-chambers that ran parallel to the ballroom. This one was sealed from the bright light and noise of the ball by a closed door opposite, but from their covert vantage point the girls had a clear view of several guests seated around a circular table. They all had drinks near their elbows and large, colourful playing cards fanned in their hands.

"What are they doing?" asked Emma, in a whisper.

"Playing tarot. Moreover, gambling."

Emma was familiar with the concept of gambling. She had seen soldiers play dice many times.

"So?"

"So look at the stakes."

Emma studied the game more closely. She couldn't see any coins on the table. She looked at the players, and then she realised - some of them were in various states of undress, their fine clothes on the floor beside them; and two on the far side were wearing almost nothing at all.

Emma fell back against Regina as she brought her hands to her mouth to seal in a squeal. She managed to keep her response under her breath.

"Gods!"

Emma felt Regina's low chuckle against her ribs. "Can you see?"

"Too much! They're stripping!"

"Better than losing your fortune, though, isn't it?"

"Losing your dignity? I guess so."

Regina continued to whisper in Emma's ear. "The couple on the left, down to their underwear - that's the Earl and Countess of Shaemore. The skinny one with all the hair in places it shouldn't be - the Castelan ambassador."

Now that Emma looked at their faces she recognised some of them. In particular the Duke of Saxburg - he was on her parents' Council! Oh dear, she couldn't take any more... She shut the curtain quickly and turned round, smirking.

"You're an evil girl, Regina."

"You said that like it's a bad thing."

"I'm quite sure I didn't."

 

Emma knew her palace far more intimately than Regina, but she had to admit that Regina was the expert at moving around without being seen. Over the next few hours they slid in and out of passages and alcoves like two accomplished thieves, and Regina showed Emma things she had not imagined from hiding places she had not conceived: an elderly lord and lady meeting in secret away from their respective spouses and getting very amorous; a foreign prince trying to grope a footman on the stairs, and earning a bloody nose for his trouble; the Lord Chamberlain slipping extra spirits into his punch when he thought no one was looking; two of her mother's matronly ladies-in-waiting kissing and fumbling on a balcony like passionate adolescents.

Emma soon realised that there was a lot more going on during a ball, and probably at court in general, than she would ever fathom. It was all rather eye-opening and exciting and, she had to admit, deliciously furtive. By the time Regina tugged Emma into yet another secluded room, Emma decided she'd had enough of just looking. It was time to _do_. 

She pulled Regina around to face her, grabbed her by the waist and, after just a little pause to ascertain Regina's compliance, kissed her quite properly on the mouth.

If someone could be like the succulence of ripe cherries and the warmth of soft butter and the spicy-sweet taste of cinnamon all at once, then Regina was all these things. Emma melted into her as their lips met and she felt that wonderful mouth slide gently against hers. She closed her eyes and sensed smooth arms circling her shoulders. Delicate fingers moved up into her hair and tickled the back of her head. A moment later she felt the tip of Regina's tongue slipping between her lips to find hers and, oh... that was the most exquisite sensation: Regina's tongue; in Emma's mouth; twirling.

Emma could have stood there like that for hours, in pure kiss bliss, doing nothing else and feeling only Regina in her mouth and wrapped around her, oblivious to the rest of the world beyond her closed eyelids. Eventually, though, but certainly no less than a minute later, Regina's hands fell slowly to Emma's back and she pulled her lovely lips away to rest her cheek on Emma's shoulder.

"Wow," said Regina, a little breathless, "I wasn't expecting that to happen so soon."

Emma wasn't sure whether she still had her voice. She was glad to discover it still worked, if a little croaky, when she answered.

"Why's that then?"

"Well, you know... you don't exactly have a reputation."

"A reputation? What do you mean?"

Emma could feel Regina's breath on her neck when she spoke. "For putting it out there."

Emma tried not to stiffen in Regina's arms but she couldn't help herself. "Do people gossip about me?"

Regina lifted her head and looked her in the eye. "Sweetheart, you're the princess. The heir to the throne. Of course people gossip about you."

"What do they say?"

Mild discomfort crossed Regina's features and she hesitated, prompting Emma to press her more sternly.

"Regina..."

"Nothing salacious. That's my point."

A few seconds passed while Emma let this sink in. She found she wasn't sure quite how to feel about it. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

"Do people say I'm frigid?"

Regina's eyes widened. "What? No!" She shook her head suddenly, as though trying to dislodge some cobwebs, and Emma loved the way her rich dark hair flicked from side to side. "Look, it's not like that. Everyone understands the position you're in. You're highly marketable - the kingdom's prime asset. Everyone recognises the value placed on your..."

"My chastity?"

Regina gave her a knowing smile; a bit too knowing for Emma's taste.

Huh, thought Emma, not for the first time that evening. Game on.

"Whereas you, Regina, have rather more worldly experience. Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Regina shrugged, but the gleam in her eye gave her away. "The odd stable boy. A few kitchen maids."

"You like to roll with the common folk, eh?"

"Diamonds in the rough, Emma."

"Taught you a few things, have they?"

"I've taught them a few things, dear."

Emma nodded slowly and stroked Regina's hips. "Right. You know what I think, Lady Regina?"

"You're going to tell me, aren't you?"

"I think you're all mouth and no breeches."

"Meaning?"

Emma edged forwards so that Regina had to take a step backwards to keep from falling over. "You're full of it, Lady. I'm sure you're a virgin."

"What makes you so certain?" asked Regina, giving way again as Emma guided her firmly back against the wall. "Can you detect virginity? Do you have some kind of royal super power?"

"For reading virginity? No. For reading little firecrackers like you? I think I must do." Emma ducked and planted her lips on the soft flesh where Regina's neck met her shoulder. She bit down gently. Regina whimpered.

But if Emma thought it would be easy to keep the upper hand she was about to learn otherwise. Despite being trapped against the wall, Regina apparently had plenty of moves. Two hands slid down Emma's back to her buttocks and squeezed them firmly, while a soft rustle of silk accompanied the pressure of Regina's knee shoving deep between Emma's thighs.

Emma gasped against Regina's neck and her hands shot back towards the other girl's wrists. A simple slide and twist, and she had Regina's arms pinned up on either side of her head. She pressed herself hard against Regina's leg, and discovered that Regina now had that foot braced against the wall. How considerate.

Regina gave a sultry chuckle as Emma ground against her. "Still certain of my inexperience, Emma?"

Emma was far from certain, but she was reluctant to admit out loud that she couldn't be sure either way. As if reading her thoughts, Regina continued.

"There is one way you can be sure whether I still have my virginity."

"How?" Emma breathed hard, creasing her gown as she chased more friction.

"Take me, right here and now. Then you can be sure I don't."

And Regina dropped her foot back to the floor, leaving Emma with a sudden lack of firmness between her thighs which was very frustrating. She scowled, and Regina's laugh bubbled up from her chest, defying her current captivity. "You're very pretty, Emma, especially when you smile; but when you're annoyed you're absolutely gorgeous."

Of all the compliments that Emma had received tonight this was the first one that she liked. It felt genuine and unforced, with no agenda behind it - the first that was truly about her, and entirely for her benefit. She broke into a helplessly dazzling smile as a result.

"Oh," said Regina, "I partly miss-spoke. When you smile like _that_... well, you're radiant."

Emma felt a light fluttering in her chest, and from the warmth that spread up her throat and across her cheeks she knew she must be blushing. She hoped there was not enough light in this dusky room for Regina to see just how deep that flush was, because Emma had the kind of fair skin that loved to embarrass her with its eagerness to pink. Just in case there was, Emma released Regina's wrists and cupped her face in her palms to bring her so close that Regina wouldn't notice. Their lips brushed and Emma caressed Regina's mouth with the lightest of touches when she spoke.

"And you, Regina, are dangerously seductive."

"Dangerously?"

"Hm. I think you might actually be a witch."

"So I'm bewitching?"

"Hmm."

"Do you think I cast a spell on you?"

"I think you might be in the process."

"Really. Like this?"

And Regina's hand slipped below Emma's waist and gripped her none too subtly through her crumpled gown between the legs.

"Oh fuck," said Emma, almost falling over, "yes, that'll do it."

Regina's fingers began to move purposefully and Emma felt a surge of arousal that made her legs quiver. She had to put her hands flat against the wall again, unsure of her own steadiness.

"I think," she said with a sudden urgency, "we need to find a safer position."

"There's a couch behind you."

"There is?"

Emma had not really noticed the room or its contents. Glancing about she realised they were in one of the palace's little parlours, most commonly used in the afternoon for glasses of sweet mead, honey-cakes and the quiet appreciation of fine poetry. At this hour the parlour would normally be dark and deserted, but there were so many torches ablaze in the palace grounds tonight that enough light was filtering in through the leaded glass to see by. Just enough light, that is, for what Emma intended.

Emma stepped backwards, an arm around Regina's slim waist to encourage her to follow, until she felt the edge of the velvet couch touch her calves. Then with a smooth bracing of her legs and twist of her hips she spun Regina down onto its cushions in the kind of takedown that would make Bill the brewer clap her on the shoulder and applaud.

Sadly, Emma forgot for the moment that she was not barefoot and attired in the simple shirt and loose linen pants she favoured for her wrestling bouts. The heel of her shoe trapped the hem of her ball gown and she felt the resulting tension too late. There was a hard tug at her waist before a seam gave out, then an unmistakeably fatal ripping noise.

"Shit!"

"Oh no," said Regina, flat on her back. "Was that your dress?"

"Yes."

"What's the damage? Is it bad?"

"I can't tell. It's too dark."

"Do you want to-"

"No!" Emma wasn't precisely sure what Regina was going to suggest, but she was very sure she didn't want any interruption at this point. "It doesn't matter." To make sure that Regina didn't argue the point, Emma joined her on the couch, pressing her lithe body against the length of Regina's and absorbing its warmth and softness. She found Regina's perfect mouth again and captured it, deciding that this time she would take some control. She explored plump lips with the tip of her tongue, then probed further, unable to suppress a brief smile when Regina surrendered with a tiny gasp and let her in.

The wonderful kissing resumed in earnest. After a few moments Emma slipped her tongue from Regina's mouth and began planting little kisses around her lips instead. She followed a delicate path over Regina's jaw and down her slender neck, where she paused to nibble a few times, and then further down until she found the smooth swell of Regina's breasts above her bodice. Here Regina's skin was especially taut and flawless, and Emma barely resisted the urge to just bury her face in lovely cleavage and hum.

Suddenly Regina stiffened underneath her. "Wait," she said.

Uh-oh. "What?"

"That door. Does it lock?"

Emma felt relief, although a hint of exasperation crept into her response. "Probably. Why? You want me to turn it?"

"Would you rather someone walk in on us?"

"No..."

"Because I understand, you know, if you're turned on by that risk-"

"I'm not."

"In that case, yes."

"All right." Emma scrambled to get up, only for both her feet to tangle in their confusion of skirts so she lost her balance. She toppled off the couch with another loud rip of fabric and fell on her ass.

"Oh for fuck's sake!"

"Are you all right?" Regina sounded concerned.

Emma grunted in the affirmative and stood up.

"I think that was mine this time," said Regina, propping herself up on her elbows and squinting at her gown in the semi-darkness. "My mother is going to have my hide. She just about mortgaged the east wing to pay for our dresses tonight."

"I'll cover it out of my allowance," said Emma as she stalked to the door, found the key already in the lock, turned it with much more ferocity than needed, then stalked back. She found Regina sitting up on the couch, deliberately loosening the laces of her bodice and smiling up at her, kitten-like.

"You're very sweet," said Regina, and Emma's frustration melted.

Matters proceeded with rather more success for a while after that. Emma removed her shoes and lowered herself onto the couch, carefully, so that her knees took most of her weight on either side of Regina's thighs. She watched, fascinated, as the tight fabric of the crimson bodice gave way under Regina's deft fingertips to release her firm breasts. The moment they appeared Emma was reaching for them, flicking a thumb over one dark nipple until it stood to attention, and feeling another press into her palm as she took the full weight in her cupped hand. Regina's head fell back against the couch and she sighed with pleasure.

"These are so perfect," said Emma, enthralled.

Then Regina's fingers were in Emma's hair again, combing through the neatly wound tresses, loosening them from her head. In her peripheral vision Emma saw her sparkling tiara fall away, and wondered briefly where it landed, but soon forgot about it when Regina pulled her head down and sealed her lips with the deepest, hardest, fiercest kiss imaginable. It was warm and wet and more intense than Emma knew a kiss could get. By the time she pulled away for air she was out of breath and a little light-headed.

"Damn this corset of a dress. I'm going to suffocate."

Emma twisted her arm awkwardly behind her, trying to release herself from its confines because, unlike Regina's gown, Emma's laced up the back. At the best of times loosening it by herself was difficult. In her currently aroused, breathless state it was impossible.

Regina took instant advantage of Emma's predicament. Before she knew it, Emma was on her back on the couch with Regina on top of her, shamelessly hoisting up the folds of her dress as she straddled Emma's hips. Regina's hands probed underneath Emma's back and tugged impatiently at the fine laces. There was a loud snap, and suddenly Emma felt her ribs expand and her lungs inflate as the boned fabric separated.

"Oops," said Regina.

"I no longer give a fuck," said Emma, glad to feel her chest free and happy to pull her loosened bodice down so that Regina could play too; which Regina did, with enthusiasm. Teeth grazed Emma's nipple and a tongue swirled across from one breast to the other.

Emma sucked in the air that she so desperately needed and regrouped for action. She reached for Regina's toned legs and squeezed, relishing their smoothness over firm muscle. Her thumbs slid underneath to the sensitive skin on Regina's inner thighs and began to stroke in feather-like caresses.

Regina's eyes closed in response and a wanton little sound escaped her throat. That sent a signal straight to Emma's core and made her pulse throb deep between her own legs. She really ached for contact now.

"Damn it, Regina. There is still far too much silk between us."

Regina's chuckle vibrated against her ribs, and Emma knew she would be hearing that husky voice in her dreams for many nights to come. Everything about Regina was enticing and sensuous - the way she spoke, the way she moved, the way she felt to the touch - Emma feared the exotic combination was going to drive her mad with lust. But Regina seemed to have an inkling of how desperate Emma was, because she shifted her position quickly so that she was kneeling on the couch and spread Emma's thighs around her hips. Their raised gowns bunched together, vaguely resembling a crushed meringue moored around their waists.

"You're right," said Regina. "Let me help you with that."

Emma moaned as Regina leaned forward and a warm, bare abdomen pressed against hers. She breathed in deeply, inhaling Regina's scent, and her heartbeat increased dramatically. Regina's hands disappeared beneath the folds of crumpled cloth and worked fast - Emma wasn't clear at what to begin with, but when tight little scraps of silk and lacy trim fell away from her heated skin underneath (and she was sure she heard another small seam rip) Emma knew her peak was at least in sight.

"Regina, did you just..?"

"I figured those were the least of our worries."

"Fair enough."

Then Regina was pressed tight against her, mouth to mouth, naked skin to naked skin. Regina was warm and intoxicating and their closeness drove Emma wild with desire. When Emma felt Regina's fingers circling the centre of her arousal, Emma ventured downwards too and brushed through silky curls. When Regina pushed inside Emma's tightness and moved with languid, aching slowness, Emma dipped a finger into slippery warmth that gripped her with the same hot fervour. And when Emma's hips rocked of their own volition, her breath hitching and her limbs stiffening as she climaxed with a flood of heat and adrenalin, she instinctively knew to twist her fingers and circle her thumb until Regina cried out and rippled around her. 

Regina collapsed against Emma afterwards, breathing hard against her ear. Emma could feel her heart pounding next to Regina's, like two little drums slightly off-set against each other.

"Wow," said Regina, for the second time that evening. "The stable boys and kitchen maids will have to up their game."

Emma laughed out loud. "Flattering royalty will get you everything."

They lay in each other's arms for many long minutes without moving, simply listening as their breathing slowed and feeling each other's chests rise and fall. They might have stayed like that until they fell asleep if not for a sudden and urgent pounding on the door.

"Open up!" a voice shouted from outside. "Emma? Are you in there?"

"Medusa's tits!" Regina gasped next to Emma's ear. Both girls jumped up from the couch, disentangling themselves from each other's arms and gowns with remarkable speed.

" _Emma?_ " The door knob rattled loudly.

"Is that the Queen?" Regina hissed.

Emma knew her mother's voice, of course. She should have realised that she would be missed and someone would start looking for her.

"How long have we been gone from the ball?" asked Emma.

"I don't know. A few hours?"

Emma's eyes widened in horror. _Oh mother-fucking trolls and ogres_...

There were more voices filtering through from the other side of the door now, though Emma couldn't make out all their owners. It sounded like a full search party:

"Have you found her?"

"Is this door always locked?"

"Not usually, ma'am."

"So why is this door locked now?"

"I don't know, ma'am."

"Open it immediately."

"It appears to be locked from the inside, ma'am."

"Is she in this one?"

"I don't know. We can't get in!"

Regina looked at Emma in dismay. "Was that the Prince too?"

Emma wiped her hand over her face. Her skin felt clammy all of a sudden.

"What are we going to do?" asked Regina.

Emma glanced down at her gown. Even in the dim light she could tell that it was in a serious state of disrepair. Regina's had not fared much better, and it was clear from the dishevelled state of their hair and long lost necklines that nothing short of a magical miracle could hide what they'd been up to.

A fist pounded fiercely on the door again, this time shaking the surrounding walls. Emma heard unmistakable fatherly fury from beyond.

"Open up now, sir! If you've touched my daughter, I will thrash you!" 

Emma and Regina looked at each other, open-mouthed.

"Marvellous," said Regina. "He already assumes you've been defiled, and I'm a rake, naturally."

"Hide," said Emma.

"Where?"

"Under there." Emma pointed to a small, low table beside the couch.

"I can't fit under that!"

"You can. And no one will pay it attention anyway. I'll open the window and they'll think my cavalier has fled into the palace grounds."

Regina did not look convinced but with the door close to losing its hinges she followed Emma's instructions. The table was indeed tiny and she had to crawl into a ball to fit beneath it, but with her face down and hands hidden she was invisible to anyone who didn't peer under directly. Emma scuttled round quickly to make sure Regina's dark dress was tucked well in, ran to open the catch on the window and fling it wide, and then attended to herself briefly. Her own bodice was shredded and she had to hold the front piece up and in place with one arm to maintain any modesty. She took a deep breath, crossed to the shaking door, turned the key, and stepped back out of the way.

The next few minutes went about as well as Emma could reasonably hope. Her mother and father tumbled in, followed by the palace's Chief Steward, several anxious-looking footmen carrying lit candelabras, and a quite unsteady Lord Chamberlain. The Queen and the Prince stared at her in an odd mix of relief and shock at finding her both alive and well yet in such evident disarray, and Emma noticed with alarm that her father actually had his sword drawn. The Prince's expression grew quite thunderous as his assumed fears were realised, and the Queen's face virtually crumpled.

"Oh, Emma!" Snow White wailed.

Palace balls were noted for lasting until dawn, but Emma did not get to her bed until long after most of the guests had waned and drifted to theirs. As Emma predicted, no one noticed Lady Regina tucked under the little table, intent as they were on looking for a full-sized male and scouring the grounds when they didn't find one with Emma inside the parlour. Her parents grilled her in her chambers for hours for the identity of the man who had dishonoured her, but she refused to name him. A few unfortunate young men who just happened to be in the vicinity were dragged before her one after the other, but Emma could insist truthfully on their innocence and the bewildered boys were released to their outraged families unscathed.

"You don't understand how critical this is," the Queen told Emma, beside herself with worry. "Your reputation is at stake here. If he's unsuitable, we must ensure his discretion. If he's a potential husband, we need to approach his family urgently."

"I have to open negotiations either way," said the Prince.

"I'm not a piece of property," Emma grumbled. "I don't need conveyancing."

"And what if you're with child?" Her mother was close to sobbing.

"I am not. That's not possible, I promise you."

"Are you sure? Do you understand exactly how-"

"Of course I do! And it's not possible."

"Well at least that's something."

They gave up eventually, by which time Emma was exhausted and feeling just a little guilty about putting them through such a trauma, but not as concerned as she was for Regina. She assumed her new friend had managed to slip away to safety once the fuss around the parlour died down, but she would have liked to be sure.

Early in the morning, however, Emma was summoned to her mother's private audience chamber, where to her surprise she found both her parents and another lord and lady of similar age assembled, plus Regina. Emma's heart felt like it leapt up into her throat when she saw her. Regina was wearing a pale blue dress, a lot more demure in style than the crimson ball gown she had worn the night before. Emma looked at her anxiously, wondering what could possibly be going on, but Regina's calm expression gave no clue.

The Queen spoke quickly. "Emma, I believe you've already met Lady Regina. These are her parents. They have something important to tell us."

Emma didn't dare wonder what that was going to be. Regina's father looked like he was about to tell her, but his wife got there first, and soon Emma had no doubt as to which was the dominant one in their marriage.

"And I am so dreadfully embarrassed," said the lady, sounding anything but. On the contrary, Emma got the impression that Regina's mother was pleased to have an excuse for a private audience with the Queen. "I understand that yesterday there was some incident concerning Princess Emma which has caused you consternation, but this morning my daughter Regina confessed her fault which I'm sure will correct any misunderstandings."

"Really, Lady Cora?"

Emma shared her mother's surprise. What on earth had Regina told her?

"Yes," said Lady Cora. "It seems that during the ball yesterday, my daughter and the Princess had some kind of altercation."

"Over what?"

Lady Cora waved her hand dismissively. "Something trivial. My daughter can't even remember what, but it was foolish and she is entirely to blame for the physical confrontation."

Emma heard her father gasp. "A cat fight?"

Understanding dawned on her parents' faces. Emma had never seen them look so relieved.

"Emma, why didn't you tell us what really happened?" Her mother shook her head, baffled.

Emma looked at Regina, amazed. "I... I didn't want to get her into trouble." She grimaced, wishing she could have come up with a better reason.

"Well, my daughter has something to say, don't you, Regina?" Cora looked sharply at her daughter and waited.

Regina turned towards Emma and dropped the lowest, prettiest curtsy Emma had ever seen.

"I'm very sorry, Your Highness," she said solemnly.

"I assure you, she will be punished," Lady Cora added.

Emma was quite dumbfounded, but this exemplary show of contrition seemed to appease everyone. It didn't take long for the alleged adults in the room to forget the presence of the two girls as they proceeded to make courteous conversation about dishonour avoided, diplomatic incidents averted and other foolish things. When she thought it was safe to do so Emma drew Regina to the far side of the chamber and spoke in hushed tones.

"Regina, what do you think you're doing?"

"Putting things right," said Regina. "I saw all the fuss that happened to you last night. I had to do something to help you."

Emma's heart skipped a beat. It made her feel so warm inside to know that Regina cared enough to make up this tale.

"But you didn't have to take the blame for it," said Emma.

"I did, because you must not. You're the heir to the throne. The kingdom can't think you're the type to start jealous scraps. For all our sakes, your public character matters."

"And yours doesn't?"

"Not like yours."

Emma shook her head. "I don't need a whipping girl."

"I'll be ok. I've taken a whipping before." A look of pained resignation fell across Regina's face.

Emma's chest tightened instantly like a vice. It felt as if something cold and spiky coiled around her lungs, stealing her breath. No... She gasped in shaky disbelief. "What? I didn't mean... literally?"

But Regina said nothing and averted her gaze, as though the subject were too harrowing to talk about. Emma inhaled a gulp of air that felt caustic in her throat. When Regina's expression remained fatalistic and despondent Emma couldn't help pressing her.

"You don't mean... your mother doesn't... she wouldn't!"

She stared at Regina's soulful face, stricken with anguish at the thought of Regina suffering for her like that, until something finally sparkled in Regina's eyes, and then Emma noticed the slight upturn at the corner of Regina's mouth, and a wave of relief and shock broke over her as she realised how thoroughly she'd been had. Regina smirked in quiet triumph.

Emma's jaw dropped. "You little..."

Something in Emma's expression must have delighted Regina's mischievous streak, because she broke into a huge grin.

"The look on your face!"

Emma gaped at her, indignant. Regina laughed out loud, unable to contain her mirth. Emma glared. "You deserve one for that."

"Promises, promises."

"You're evil."

"So it's been said."

Emma felt her glare soften. This girl might be on the way to capturing her heart, she thought.

"It would be romantic though, wouldn't it?" said Regina, a wistful look adding to her amusement. "To take one for your lover's sake?"

Emma rolled her eyes without restraint. "Clearly you've been reading far too many fanciful poems about courtly love."

Regina sighed softly, more serious now. "I am going to suffer for the dress, though. Mother has already told me - I'm forbidden to leave the house all summer and riding is banned for a month."

"Oh Regina, I'm so sorry," said Emma, genuinely remorseful. "You shouldn't be punished. You didn't do anything wrong."

"That's kind of true. _You_ ruined my dress. I ruined yours."

"I offered to pay."

"My mother's pride won't let you. It's ok. You're a clever girl, Emma. I'm sure you can think of a way to make it up to me."

I must do more than make it up to you, Emma thought. She grew resolute.

"I'm going to save you from it, Regina."

Regina's deep brown eyes seemed to go liquid then. Gratitude and something else which looked a lot like love shone from their depths. "You want to be my saviour?"

"I'll figure something out."

 

Emma made her announcement at the end of dinner later that day.

"I'd like Regina to stay for the summer."

Her parents stilled their forks and stared at her, apparently lost for words.

"Well?" she prompted them.

"We'll think about it," said her mother.

Emma excused herself and left the table, but she hovered outside the door to listen to what they had to say.

"What do you think, Charming?"

"I didn't see that coming."

"But it might be a good idea. This Regina could be just what she needs to get her more interested in feminine things."

"I'm not sure. The girl started a cat fight. She might be a bad influence."

"But to her credit she did come forward and confess it. That's a good sign, I think. It shows honesty. And it looks like they've already made up."

"True. It wouldn't hurt for Emma to have someone her own age in her corner."

"She could certainly do with some female influence. Young Regina strikes me as a proper lady; someone not remotely interested in swords and sparring... and especially not that dreadful wrestling."

"Yes. Emma needs some balance."

"Indeed. The amount of time she spends with those men has become quite unseemly. She needs some ladylike companionship."

"You're right, Snow."

"Then I will write to Lady Cora and invite her daughter to court. It will be good for Emma to have someone who can show her a thing or two about girls."

~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback welcome :)


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